Heist!
by PRAUS
Summary: It's like "Reservoir Dogs" meets "Hetalia," with a dash of "Usual Suspects" thrown in. Characters: S. Italy, Cuba, Austria, Hungary, Prussia, and Canada. A/U, but no human names used except for S. Italy. Rated T for language/violence. And when I say "Humor" under "Genre," I mean dark, really, really, dark humor. Dedicated to The Table.
1. Chapter 1: Introductions are in Order

**Cast of Characters**

"OK, listen up. You all know me, but not each other. Our Benefactor wants to keep this as anonymous as possible, so you're all getting code names. I'm only gonna go over this list once, so pay attention, jerks. You, Specs, your name is 'Mr. Austria.' You, little missy, are 'Miss Hungary.' You – "

"'Miss Hungary!?' What, did I win a fuckin' pageant, Lovi?"

"You hear a word I just said? It's your code name, idiot. You wanna be called 'Mister' too?"

"No. It's fine. I just sound like a damn beauty queen is all."

"Can we get on with this?"

"Sure thing, Specs, that is if _Miss_ Hungary don't have any more complaints. No? Okay. Where was I? Oh yeah, you, albino, you're 'Mr. Prussia,' and y – "

"How come I'm 'Prussia?' That's an ex-empire! And I'm not a freakin' albino!"

"You're about to be an _ex_-member of this outfit if you don't shut the hell up, Mr. History Professor! Got it? Good. Now, let's see…next is 'Mr. Cuba,' which is you – "

"Hang on, man…."

"What?"

"Why'm I 'Cuba?'"

"Because you're fuckin' Mexican, okay?"

"You racist fu – "

"Can we _please_ get on with this?"

"I'd _love_ to if you'd all quit interruptin' me! Okay…we got 'Cuba', 'Austria,' 'Prussia,' 'Hungary….' Dammit! You jerks made me lose track! There's someone missin' here."

"Who's that guy?"

"What guy?"

"The guy in the hoodie?"

"Who?"

"Him!"

"Oh! Sorry, bro, you sorta blended in."

"Oh, that's all right. My mother always said I had one of those faces. When I was little she was always losing me in the supermarket…."

"Uh, right. Okay, guy-in-the-hoodie, you are 'Mr. Canada.'"

**The Plan**

"It's a diamond heist, pure and simple. The guy backin' this, our Benefactor, wants it to be as clean cut – no muss, no fuss – as possible. Which means, _no_ alarms and absolutely _no_ hostages. I'm lookin' at you, Mr. Prussia, I know your reputation, you crazy sonofabitch. Because they're the most straight laced lookin' outta the bunch, Mr. Austria and Mr. Canada are gonna go in. Mr. Canada's gonna distract the sales person by askin' to see the loose diamonds. Once, he's in the vault, Mr. Austria's gonna come back out and signal the rest of you to go in. Make it look like a smash and grab. If you get anything out of the cases, that's fine, but the _real_ cash is the loose stones in the vault. Fill up this bag with whatever's in there. So, threaten, intimidate, fire some rounds into the ceiling for effect, but for the love of God, _don't_ hit anyone! Hungary, you're coverin' Prussia and Cuba while they storm the place, so make sure no one hits the alarm while you're there. Once you get outta there, though, you got a four minute window 'cause some yahoo _will_ hit that button and then the cops show up. But, you're all takin' separate cars to make it hard for anyone to follow you. The rendezvous point is the old Metro Mechanical warehouse down by the docks. There's a boat tied there and it leaves at two o'clock. If your ass ain't on it, that's tough shit. Questions? No? All right. Good luck."

* * *

_**A/N **Confused yet? Yes? Good. That's the whole point. Yeah, I know, it's short. It's meant to be. All the following chapters will probably be short too, so hopefully I'll be able to upload a chapter once a week (that's the plan, anyway.) If you're not familiar with the movie "Reservoir Dogs," it might help to watch it or at least read the plot summary on Wikipedia. _

_I own nothing. It all belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya, Quentin Tarantino, and Chris McQuarrie respectively._

_Thanks for reading! Reviews are welcomed._

_(also, if you're interested, I made a mini play-list for this fic - actually I do it for all of them 'cuz I'm awesome like that...this one just happens to be small enough to include in this Author's Note thingy. Band first, then song title. See below:)_

_Beach Boys - "Don't Worry, Baby"_

_Joe Cocker - "She Came in Through the Bathroom Window"_

_Spencer Davis Group - "Gimme Some Lovin'"_

_ZZ Top - "Just Got Paid"_

_Sex Pistols - "Anarchy in the UK"_

_Beastie Boys - "Sabotage"_

_Warren Zevon - "Lawyers, Guns, and Money"_

_Gogol Bordello - "Mishto!"_


	2. Chapter 2: Mr Austria

_**A/N **In the following chapters, the italicized part is a flashback, giving the characters some background._

* * *

**Mr. Austria**

Christ, he didn't mean to shoot her! But her had to shoot her. She was going to sound the alarm. None of the others saw it but he did.

She was on the ground with the rest, but she was close – so close – to that little button on the floor, just under the case.

He saw her look at it.

She saw _him_ see _her_ look at it!

And then she moved her knee and _bang!_

He shot her.

And then she collapsed and her hand! – her hand hit the fucking alarm anyway!

_Oh shit! Shit shit shit!_

But if he shot her, who the hell shot him? In all the adrenaline-fueled chaos, he barely felt the stinging pain in his arm as his finger closed around the trigger.

It all happened so fast….

The guard was behind him….

But Cuba had already knocked the guy out….

The bullet definitely came from somewhere on his left – the oozing hole in his shoulder proved that – but there was no one _over_ there, right? Furthermore, why the hell did he go back in after signaling the others?

'_Oh no, you ain't gettin' outta this one, pretty boy!'_

Right. Someone grabbed him and dragged him back in – Prussia, maybe, or hell even Hungary – he couldn't remember the voice. Probably was Hungary. She seemed the most likely after their little meeting anyway….

Damn it all, what did it matter? _He_ shouldn't have been there. This wasn't his type of job. This was messy. Chaotic. Not at all as easy as Lovino had promised.

This was all _her_ fault.

That evil –

That vile –

That…beautiful –

Temptress.

* * *

'_Coors Light?' an airy voice said._

'…_Excuse me?' he huffed before turning and looking up into the most hypnotic green eyes he'd ever seen. Despite his irritation, he could not look away._

'_Your drink.' The eyes swept languidly over the bottle he held in his hand. 'It hardly seems like you.'_

'_And how would you know what I drink?'_

_The woman – the owner of those exquisite eyes – threw back her head and laughed._

'_Are you mocking me?' he asked, turning away, secretly glad to escape her intense gaze._

'_No.'_

'_Then stop laughing. I like it. It's cheap.' He brought the bottle to his lips as if to prove his point._

'_So business _has_ been slow.'_

_His hand tightened around the sweaty glass, slowly setting it back on the bar top._

'_I'm not sure what you're talking about. My business is my own and it's been _fine_, thank you very – '_

'_Forging dead old ladies' measly social security checks? C'mon. That's not you.'_

_He clenched his jaw. Whoever this woman was, she was baiting him. He knew it. This reeked of a set up._

'_You certainly are presumptuous. Some people might take offense.'_

_The woman laughed again, sliding herself onto a vacant barstool to his left. She crossed her arms, leaning her elbows on the wooden bar, and tossed her wavy brown hair over her left shoulder, fixing him once again with those bewitching eyes._

'_You can't threaten me. I know you're not armed. That's not your style. You like to keep things clean. Orderly. That's why my employer was shocked to learn how you've degraded yourself. It's only a matter of time until you're caught. One little slip up and they've got you. Forging checks takes none of the skill of forging manuscripts. All of that research, all of that experimentation to get the inks and paper _just_ right…'_

_The beer bottle, held fast in his right hand, threatened to shatter. His fingers squeezed it harder and harder as he listened to the woman talk. It was clear she knew about him – his habits, his type of work – and he knew absolutely nothing about her. And oh, how he _hated_ meeting his enemies blindly! But she had given something away. A little thing, but one that might help…._

'_And just whom do you work for?' he asked keeping his tone even and cocking an eyebrow._

_The corners of her mouth twitched up. She seemed to have anticipated this. 'Lovino Vargas.'_

_His face blanched upon hearing the name._

'_Lovi's been an avid follower of your career ever since you sold him those fake Gentileschi letters. I believe that was right before your museum contact disappeared and your business suddenly dropped off. Now, I wonder…could those incidents _possibly_ be related?' she said, touching her finger to her chin and looking up in mock thought._

'_So this is about those damned letters? I didn't think that foul-mouthed dolt was smart enough to – '_

'_No!' She slammed her fist on the bar top. 'It's not about some stupid letters! You fucked over a _Vargas_,' she hissed, leaning in close. 'You're lucky you're not dead!'_

'_Then why are you here? To warn me? You work for him, so that can't be it. You want something else otherwise you wouldn't be here. But you're stalling, trying to make me nervous, when I just wish you'd fucking spit it out already!'_

_Now _she_ was flustered. He could see it. Her eyes widened. Her nostrils flared. She had not expected him to come back at her…._

_She crossed her legs, tossing her hair over her other shoulder and leaned in closer to him._

'_He wants you for a job. As payback for the forged letters.'_

'_Me?' he snorted. 'I don't do _that_ sort of work. Idiot thugs and pretend mafiosos…'_

_She chose to ignore the jab. 'You'd be able to get back in the manuscript business, if you just do this one job. Mr. Vargas will see to it.'_

'_No.'_

'_We just need one more straight man. You don't have to do anything but go in and pretend to shop.'_

'_Not happening.'_

_She scooted closer, smoothing her skirt and letting the toe of her boot brush his leg. 'It pays handsomely….'_

'_I said no.'_

_She removed a .380 from her boot and pressed the barrel into his thigh, blinking up at him with those damned green eyes and smiling._

'_Er…ahem…well, then,' he stammered, 'h-how much did you say it pays?'_

* * *

_**A/N (2) **The Gentileschi letters refers to the Italian artist Artemisia Gentileschi. They don't really have any significance to the rest of the story other than to give Mr. Austria a bit of background, but I figured I'd use her because I remembered studying her in art history and read that only 28 of her letters remain._

_**The Table – **You guys rock my world! Seriously, thank you so much! My inbox nearly blew up when I checked my email today ^_^_


	3. Chapter 3: Miss Hungary

**Miss Hungary**

"Someone sold us out, Lovi. I swear the cops were there in less than a minute."

"Did everyone get out?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"What about the goods?"

"Prussia had 'em."

"Good….That's good. So you really think something's up?"

"Like I said, Lovi, cops showed up too quick."

The other end of the line remained eerily quiet for a few seconds. She could almost _hear_ him thinking…

"…Where are you now?" he finally asked.

"Heading for the warehouse."

"Good. I'll meet you there."

"All right," she said, flipping her mobile phone shut and tossing it in the passenger's seat.

The calm she managed to maintain throughout the phone call quickly dissipated as frustrated screams ripped from her chest and she beat the steering wheel repeatedly with her palm. _What the hell happened?_

* * *

'_You don't like it, do you?'_

_She chewed her bottom lip, staring at the faded rug in his study._

'_What's not to like about it? It's cut and dry. Simple. The easiest job we've had in months.'_

_Her eyes shot up, locking with his._

'_That's what you don't like about it, isn't it?' He leaned back in his leather chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. 'You think it's too easy.'_

_She exhaled slowly. 'Not only do I think it's too easy, but, Lovi, _those_ guys? Seriously?'_

'_You know 'em?'_

'_I know _of_ them. And that's enough for me. Look, I _know_ you got other guys willing to – '_

'_I told ya, it ain't my decision. Our backer wants the actual theft to look as amateur as possible so there's less chance of it being traced back to a particular syndicate. In this case, _my_ syndicate. Capisci?'_

'_Yeah, I understand, but the one shoots first and asks questions later and the other has an unpredictable temper and they _both_ go in hot-headed and guns blazing.'_

'_Not this time. I give you my word.'_

'_But – '_

_He held up a hand to silence her protests. 'When I say I give you my word, I mean it. Has my word ever failed?'_

_She slumped back in her chair. '…No.'_

_He stood up from his desk, going over to the liquor cabinet. He poured himself a whiskey and glanced over his shoulder to see if she wanted one too, but she was back to brooding at the rug._

'_I know what you're thinking,' he said. 'I've been thinkin' it too. You think we need someone else. _I _think we need someone else.'_

'_Another straight man,' she said. 'Another pair of eyes to help me cover those two.' _And to make sure they don't do anything stupid, _she added to herself._

'_I agree.'_

'_Costs?'_

'_Already been discussed. Money's no object with this guy. He says the diamond haul alone will cover initial costs as well as any incidentals.'_

'_Who do you have in mind then?'_

_He swirled the amber liquid in his tumbler, watching the bead stick to the glass. 'I know a guy. He doesn't know it yet, but he owes me a favor. I need you to talk to him….'_

* * *

By the time she got to the warehouse, some of her anger had abated.

A black sedan was parked on the side. _So, someone was here already._ An odd impulse struck her to storm the warehouse and give whoever was inside a piece of her mind. This person had gotten out first. Clearly they must have known something was up, almost as if they planned it that way….

But as she pulled up beside it, she noticed a dark smear along the driver's side door panel. Whatever blame she intended to lay on the person inside vanished as quickly as it had manifested.

She entered the warehouse and saw Mr. Austria slumped against some old wooden crates, breathing heavily. Dark red droplets traced a meandering path to where he sat. His left arm rested lamely in his lap, a make-shift tourniquet fashioned from his tie tied tight around it.

"You're hit." She had intended for it to be a question. Instead it came out as a statement.

He looked up upon hearing her voice.

"Obviously," he snorted.

"Cops?" she asked, cautiously approaching him.

"No. It happened before…before they showed up."

She halted. "That's not possible."

"Oh really?" he said drily. "We all had guns – "

"No shit, but they weren't…didn't you check….What am I saying? Of course you didn't. This isn't _your_ type of work."

"Didn't do what?" he bit out.

"Check your gun. Your clip. It was loaded with blanks. Look." She pulled hers out of the holster on her back. He drew back upon seeing it.

"Oh relax, would you?"

"Relax?! _You _haven't been shot! And how do I know _you_ didn't shoot me? Maybe you came here to finish the job. Maybe that was your plan – to pick us off one by one here in this warehouse…."

She folded her arms, an unimpressed look wrinkling her brow, as she listened to his accusations. "You done now?"

"…I…." His eyes went from her face to the gun in her hand.

"If it'll help you believe me, I'll take out the clip and set the gun on the ground, okay? I just want you to see what I'm talking about."

"Wh-what about the one in your boot?"

"I don't have anything else on me."

"How do I know that? We're not friends here! I don't know you – "

"Oh for fuck's sake..." she huffed, balancing on one leg while unzipping her boot and sliding it off then switching and doing the same with the opposite leg.

"Nothing there. Happy? Lovi was very specific – "

"Under your shirt then. Where you had that one hidden," he said, nodding to the empty pistol on the ground.

"I'm not stripping for your sick enjoyment! Now, are you gonna listen to me or what?" She stormed over, snatching him up by his collar. "These. Are. Blanks!"

He looked up at her then down at the clip clenched tightly in her fist.

He held out his hand, palm up, and she ejected the three remaining rounds into it. The tip was crimped. No metal projectile at the end.

"No one was close enough to you for these to cause any damage," she said. "Prussia and Cuba were in the vault and I was at the opposite far end from you."

"We were set up." She released his shirt collar and flopped down beside him. A cloud of dust flew up, illuminated by the uneven shafts of sunlight streaming through the cracked windows. She leaned her head against the crates, watching the lazy particles drift down to resettle, all the while thinking how much the streaks of light looked like bars….

"…But I shot a woman," he said quietly. "I shot a woman. She was going for the alarm. I shot her and she hit it anyway….And then the police came…."

"Maybe," she shrugged. "You may have been close enough. But you probably just saw her flinch from all the commotion. And the cops were there way too fast. I'm sure of it."

"Why did the guns have blanks in them?"

"Lovi was very specific about what our backer wanted," she said. "No unnecessary damage. Didn't want anyone to get hurt." She looked at his arm as she said this, a dry grin stretched across her lips.

"And that's why you think it was a set up?"

She nodded. "I _know_ it was."

"And what do we do now, assuming this whole thing hasn't gone to shit?"

"We stick to the plan. We wait. The others will be here soon. And Lovino. He'll sort this thing out."

As if on cue, the warehouse door banged open. She jumped up, hands curling at her sides. But it was only Prussia. Followed closely by Cuba, who collapsed back against the door, panting.

A slanted grin appeared on Prussia's face upon seeing the discarded pistol and boots. "Well, well. What did we miss?"

* * *

_**A/N** Holy crap, another ninja update! I don't know what's gotten into me – this story has literally sat in my word processor since May with only the first chapter complete, and now I find myself writing chapters for it every day! Anyway, yay for Hungary! She is the most level-headed out of the bunch. And we get to see a softer/subdued? side to Romano. Actually, writing this chapter has made me want to pair them in a future story. Kinda weird, but I can see it working….._

_Now onto the two technical things:_

_Capisci – Italian for 'understood?' (think of all those mob flicks you've seen with the stereotypical Italians saying 'Capiche?' to one another – this is the base word for it.)_

_Blank bullets – actually fire projectiles in the form of paper or plastic wadding that seals the gunpowder into the cartridge. Yes, they can hurt/kill you if fired at close range and if aimed at a vulnerable spot, like your temple._

_Thanks for reading and for all the wonderful reviews!_


	4. Chapter 4: Mr Cuba and Mr Prussia

**Mr. Cuba and Mr. Prussia**

_Cuba was the first in, gun drawn but held tight against his leg so as not to cause a panic. Not yet. They only had a few precious seconds._

_His eyes made a quick sweep of the store. A red blur caught his attention. The vault door was open and Canada was in place. Good._

_To his right, the security guard was busy chatting up a busty blonde behind the counter. The other employees milled about, either idly talking or wiping down the glass cases, enjoying the down time. It was too early to start prepping for the rush hour crowd and the post lunch surge of men browsing for their mistresses or needing something to appease their wives had already passed. The store was nearly empty. He smiled. This was almost too easy, he thought. _

_Cuba sauntered up behind the security guard and cold cocked him with the butt of his pistol._

_The guard crumpled to the floor._

_The busty blonde screamed._

_And all hell broke loose…._

'_Down! Down! Get on the ground!' he shouted, spinning and pointing his gun as he made his way to the vault._

_Prussia entered next, firing a few rounds into the ceiling for effect. Those who had still been standing quickly dropped to their knees, arms flying up to cover their heads._

_Hungary brought up the rear, dragging a stunned Austria behind her, and covered the door._

_Cuba got to the vault. Canada had his gun trained on the salesman, but Cuba could see his arms trembling despite his baggy red hoodie. Beads of sweat rolled down Canada's cheeks and nose, making his glasses slip._

'_I got this, man,' Cuba said, coming up beside him. 'You get your ass outta here! And get rid o' that damn hoodie! Fuckin' thing's like a beacon. You're just _askin'_ to get caught!'_

_Canada nodded numbly, backing away and hands shaking as he tucked his gun into his waistband. His fingers fumbled with the zipper of his lucky red hoodie as he struggled to get the thing off._

_Cuba cornered the salesman and knocked him out the same way he had security guard._

'_Prussia! Get in here with that bag!' he yelled._

_Out on the main floor, the employees cowered amid raining glass and spent rounds as Prussia smashed and shot out the just-Windexed cases, scooping the contents into the black backpack hanging from his shoulder._

_Hearing Cuba call for him, he hastened for the vault, firing a few more rounds into the store haphazardly as he went._

_The stones were there. A small selection laid out on a black velvet cloth with more in the cases. All kinds of sizes and shapes. Prussia's eyes widened when he saw them gleaming beneath the fluorescent lights. His hands shook. He licked his lips convulsively as he approached the velvet cloth. Lovino was right. This was payday!_

_Cuba already smashed out the cases in the vault. 'Gimme the bag!'_

_Prussia handed it over. Cuba raked the vault's remains into it, and not a moment too soon._

'_Sirens!' Hungary called from the front. 'Cops are here! Move! Move!'_

_Prussia and Cuba looked at each other for a fleeting moment, the same thought passing through both their minds. _They_ had the goods. While everyone else was busy fleeing, trying to get to the warehouse, they could take off in another direction. Get far, far away. Somewhere Lovino couldn't find them…._

_But the second to make such a decision had passed. The others were already outside. The sirens were getting closer. They didn't have much time to act._

_In a bid to ensure they got every last stone, Prussia snatched the bag back from Cuba, rolled up the velvet cloth, and stuffed it inside. _

_He clutched the bag tight to his chest and ran for the front entrance with Cuba close on his heels._

_They burst onto the sidewalk. A police car blocked the alley where Prussia had his car parked._

"_Shit!" Prussia hissed._

_Cuba grabbed Prussia's shoulder and pulled him the other direction. His sedan was two blocks away, but the cops had _just_ gotten there. If they ran fast enough, they could make it. If nothing happened…._

_Prussia was on the ground amid a tangle of limbs and curses. Some stupid kid had gotten in front of him! Prussia had bowled him over, dropping the bag and his gun as he and the boy face-planted into the cement. _

_Cuba grabbed the gun, stuffing it behind his waistband, and snatched up the bag and Prussia, tucking one under each arm, and ran down the last block._

_The car was still there._

_Cuba threw Prussia into the passenger's seat and shoved the backpack full of diamonds behind his own seat._

_Sirens wailed down the street. More police were fast approaching. The red and blue lights of their sirens reflected off the buildings. _

"_Aw fuck! Aw hell! We ain't gonna make it! Shit! Shit!" Prussia shouted. "They're too close!" But he didn't know his partner knew a short cut._

_Cuba gunned the engine._

* * *

When he saw the warehouse, Cuba knew he could breathe again. He had outstripped the cops easily, but just seeing the building meant it was almost over. Almost time to catch a boat ride and, more importantly, almost time to get paid.

He glanced at the digital clock before cutting the engine. Fifteen minutes to go. Yep. Almost time.

He looked at Prussia, who had also been looking at the clock and seemed to be having the same thoughts. Cuba grinned. Prussia returned it, and they both burst out laughing.

Cuba handed the bag and gun back to his partner. "Ready?"

Prussia winked. "Of course."

They exited the car and hurried up to the warehouse.

Prussia kicked open the door. It hit the wall with a reverberating bang. A pair of boots and a pistol lay discarded on the dusty cement floor. Hungary hovered over Austria, her fists clenching.

"Well, well," Prussia sneered as he sauntered in, "what did we miss?"


	5. Chapter 5: Mr Canada

**Mr. Canada**

It was incredibly inconsiderate of them not to offer him any help. There he was, walking down the sidewalk, calmly to his car, doing his best to not attract any attention – like he really needed to _try_ – when _wham, _Prussia flies into him, sending both of them sprawling. Way to be inconspicuous….

Yet oddly enough, no one seemed to notice. Like by touching him, it rendered both he and Prussia invisible….

When he was a child, he used to wonder if he did indeed have superpowers. Though, admittedly, he often wished for something cooler, like the ability to fly versus being invisible. His mother would tell him not to cry over such things. There were advantages to blending in so perfectly that you seemed unseen – and he certainly found them.

He picked himself up off the sidewalk, brushing his pants off and frowning when he noticed they had a small hole in the knee. Great. His favorite pair of jeans ruined. Well, it's not like he wouldn't be able to afford a new pair soon, as well as a new hoodie. His red one had been through quite a bit – the tattered cuffs and torn pocket were evidence to that. Yes, new clothes definitely had a way of changing ones perception of oneself, as well as the perception of others. He decided a shopping trip would be his first order of business, provided there was no hitch in the plan – which of course there wouldn't be. He laughed to himself as he thought it. For being constantly overlooked, he wondered how he managed to maintain an optimistic outlook.

He bent down to retrieve his backpack. The security guard hadn't even noticed he had one slung over his shoulders when he went in the store. Neither did the sales person who showed him the loose jewels in the vault. Even amid the chaos of police cars and sirens, no one bothered to stop him for questioning or whatever it is they do. Oh well. Not like he wasn't used to it. His mother always said he had one of those faces….

Still, it was extremely rude of Prussia to barrel into him as they fled. And then for him and Cuba to keep on going, not offering him any help. Extremely rude indeed.

He was going to give them _such_ a what-for….

* * *

_**A/N **Told ya some of the chapters would be short :-D Hang in there, Canada! _

_I just want to thank everyone who's read/favorited/reviewed this crazy fic. It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside XD And on that note, I probably won't have this updated until way late next week or even the week after b/c I'll be out of town and away from technology (or at least my word processor.)_


	6. Chapter 6: Liars, Guns, and Money

_**A/N** I totally stole the title of this chapter from one of my favorite episodes of 'Farscape.' I'm not sorry XD. Thanks for reading!_

* * *

**Liars, Guns, and Money**

Prussia bent down to retrieve the boots, running a thumb over the smooth black leather.

"Stuff it asshole, or I'll pistol whip you myself," Hungary snapped, stomping over to stand toe to toe with Prussia, her stocking feet making a hollow slapping sound against the concrete floor.

Prussia smirked. She stood a full head shorter than him, having to crane her neck up just to glare him in the eye. Her attempt at intimidation was almost…cute.

"Do you have them?" Hungary asked, pointedly ignoring the leering grin.

Prussia held up her boots, eyebrows raised in feigned innocence.

"You know what I mean!" Hungary snatched her boots back.

"Relax darlin', everything's there." Prussia snaked an arm around the bag hanging from his shoulder, pushing it out of Hungary's grabby reach.

Hungary's eyes narrowed. "I just know your reputation. _And_ his." She nodded over at Cuba. "_And_ I know you _both_ arrived – together – well after me and Austria, which tells me you got lost and are bigger idiots than you look, or you two are planning something. We all left the store at the same time. Kinda hard to hang about with the police swarming the place. That is, unless – "

Prussia's head rolled back as a loud bark of laughter rang through the empty warehouse. "Why are the pretty ones always so psychotic? Here. Take the fuckin' bag if it'll make you happy."

He let the bag slide off his arm and land at his feet, but Hungary made no move to retrieve it. Instead she seemed intent on keeping Prussia in her sight.

"The hell you so tetchy for anyway?" Prussia asked.

Hungary studied him a few moments more, deciding if he really _was_ as dumb as he looked. If she told him her suspicions, how would he react? _One_ of their guns was, in fact, loaded with live ammunition. And she could all but guarantee Prussia held the guilty weapon….

But his face held no shadows, his eyes only a growing impatience as he waited for her answer.

"…We've been set up," she said.

Prussia snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah. Like I said. Psychotic."

"Hey! I've been working with Lovi for a long time and – "

"So've I!" Prussia snapped.

"_And_ he's good on his word, but this thing got fucked – "

"You talkin' about the cops?"

"Not _only_ that but – "

"Hey, what's his deal?" Cuba cut in.

"What!?" Prussia and Hungary cried in unison, turning towards Cuba.

"Him." Cuba nodded at Austria slumped against the crates. "What the hell happened to him?"

"He got shot," Hungary said.

"Who shot him?" Prussia asked.

"That's what I've been _trying_ to explain! He _couldn't_ have been shot!"

"But you just said – "

"I _know_ what I said! But – just shut your mouths and listen – the guns all had blanks. Lovi made sure of that. He promised. Nothing would go wrong. So I'm telling ya, we were set up!"

"Blanks?" Prussia looked at his own gun – the one Lovino had given him before the start of the mission. "…So you think one of us…"

"One of us is trying to sabotage this?" Cuba finished.

"Looks that way," Hungary said.

"Aw I don't buy that bullshit. Why the hell would Lovino give us guns with blank rounds?" Prussia said.

Hungary's hands flew to her hair, grabbing fistfuls and wiling herself not to rip out the chunks. "Do. You. Not. Listen!? The mission briefing? The client didn't want a mess! Do you even _check_ your equipment before starting something? I can't believe I thought _either_ of you set this up! For seasoned criminals, you guys are pathetic!"

Now it was Prussia's turn to glare murderously at Hungary. Cuba, on the other hand, seemed deep in thought.

"Hang on a minute," he said, approaching Hungary and Prussia, "_Lovino_ gave us the guns…."

"What's your point?" Hungary huffed, turning her scrutinizing gaze on him.

"Well, it's just…you don't think _he_ could've – "

"Could've what?" a rough voice said.

"Lovi!" Hungary said, trotting over to their leader. "Just ignore him. He's talking out his ass – "

"No. I wanna hear what this jerk thinks." Lovino sauntered over to Prussia and Cuba. Hungary trailed close behind. "You think _I_ set this up? You think _I'm _responsible for this clusterfuck? Huh?"

"N-no. I'm not sayin' that. But _she's_ insisting we were sabotaged! And _somehow_ Austria got shot even though _she_ said you gave us blank rounds!"

"I di – "

"Fuck this! There's only one way to settle it," Prussia said, lifting his gun and pulling the trigger.

Lovino blinked.

Cuba flinched.

Hungary rolled her eyes.

A loud _bang_ filled their ears. Then nothing.

As the smoke cleared and sound fought to return, they became aware of one thing: Austria was no longer seated on the crates.

He was sprawled, face down, on the floor, a pool of blood blossoming under him.

"Shit!" Prussia screamed. "I was aimin' for the top crate. Swear to God I was!"

"Then your aim's as bad as your lie," Hungary said.

"B-but I didn't….I ain't lyin'. You said so yourself! I'm an idiot! There's no way I could've planned this!"

"Then you had help. The pistols _I_ gave you were loaded with blanks! Where the hell'd you get this one, huh?" Lovino said. "What? The cut you were gettin' wasn't gonna be enough, so you decided to fuck us all over in the process?"

"N-no! Lovi, c'mon! You know me. I sure as hell didn't shoot Austria. Not the first time! It was supposed to be blanks, right?"

"Bullshit! That's not what you said earlier!" Hungary cried.

"I-I was just messin' with ya. C'mon! You _know_ I always double check my gear – "

"More bullshit."

" – a-and me and Cuba _barely _got outta the vault! Cops were swarmin' my car! Tell 'em, Cuba!"

"Don't drag me into this, man."

Prussia stood helpless, turning from Cuba to Lovino, when something caught his eye. Something the others had completely ignored….

The black bag sat unattended. Hungary saw Prussia's eyes dart to it and she made to retrieve it, but Prussia was faster.

"Fine!" Prussia spat, clutching the bag to his chest. "Fine! You all think I did it! Well I might as well then! Seeing as how I'm the only one with _real_ ammunition! Let's start with the ring leader." Prussia pointed his gun at Lovino, index finger curling around the trigger.

"Don't bank on it, _idiota_," Lovino said, pulling a 9mm out of his coat pocket.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to see who's faster – "

"Hey, you guys hear that?"

"What, Cuba?" Prussia said between clenched teeth.

"It's like a beeping sound."

"What?"

"…I hear it too," Hungary said.

"You're both nuts," Prussia said.

"If you'd shut up for five seconds, you'd hear it!"

"Y-you're just tryin' to distract me!"

"I think it's coming from your bag," Cuba said.

"No it's not! I'd hear it."

"If your mouth would quit flapping, maybe you would," Lovino said. "Put your gun down, Prussia. There's something in that bag."

"No! You first!"

"Whatever." Lovino shrugged, lowering his 9mm, but not before pulling the trigger when the barrel was level with Prussia's knee.

"Goddammit!" Prussia howled, the sudden shock of bullet impacting bone sending all three – bag, gun, and Prussia – to the floor.

Lovino, Hungary, and Cuba approached the bag and Prussia. Hungary kicked the gun away from Prussia's reach before he could decide to use it again. But his concern was more for his shattered kneecap.

Lovino crouched beside Prussia, undoing the bag's zipper.

Between curses hissed through clenched teeth, Prussia finally heard it. _Beep. Beep. Beep._ A digital sound. Steady. Every second. _Beep_. Like one of those wristwatches alerting the hour.

"What the hell – ?" Lovino pulled out something bulky and red.

"Isn't that….Wasn't it that guy's hoodie? You know, what's-his-name's? Uh…Canada's?" Cuba said.

"…What?" Prussia breathed. "How…the hell…is that…in my bag?"

"I can guess," Hungary scoffed.

"If there ain't no jewels in here, you are gonna be fish food by the time I'm done with you!"

"No, Lovi, I swear! That's not – "

"Where is Canada, anyway?" Cuba asked.

But Lovino's attention was too focused on the bag to worry about Canada. He honestly doubted whether Canada made it out alive. The damning evidence was right there in Prussia's bag. Canada's hoodie. Poor kid couldn't even scare a rabbit. It was Prussia all along. Had to be.

Damn, he should have listened to Hungary.

The hoodie had muffled the beeping sound, which by now had grown louder. Lovino was determined to find the source and – hopefully – the stones. He shuddered to think what his client would do to _him_ if they came up empty….

He checked the inside, the front pockets, felt around the shoulder paddings, but no sign of any jewels.

Lovino felt around in the bag's main compartment again. It was completely empty except for a back flap he had earlier mistaken for extra padding. And there was something in there.

Lovino tore open the bag and ripped out the excess padded flap. A faint red light illuminated the bag with each _beep_. Lovino's face turned ashen.

He'd found the source.

"Lovi, what is it?" Hungary said.

Lovino took the thing out.

Red digital numbers ticked away the seconds with each _beep_.

Only twelve more to go.

Taped on the bomb was a note saying: "If you all haven't shot each other yet, this should do the trick. Sorry. I don't like loose ends."

_Beep._ Four more seconds….

Lovino's eyes widened. He _knew_ that handwriting….

_Beep._ Zero.


	7. Chapter 7: Moriarty

The white prow cut through the brackish waters of the Elizabeth River, leaving nothing but a dull engine hum and a frothy mixture of oil slick and foam in its wake.

He grimaced, seeing the murky river lap at the sides of his beloved yacht.

Well.

In a few moments, he would be quit of this foul city and its foul river.

He checked his watch. Two minutes to go.

He had already passed the warehouse and was just close enough to witness the proceedings but not be harmed by it.

He slowed the engine to a crawl.

Those poor sods. Didn't have a clue what was coming – if they weren't already dead, that is. Austria most definitely was. He was certain of it. His marksmanship had never been that great, but he knew anatomy and he had undoubtedly hit Austria in an artery or at least a main vein.

Someone else had been shot too. He heard a gunshot as he cruised by the warehouse.

He only wondered who had grabbed his gun and whom this was all being blamed on right now – Prussia or Cuba? He almost wished he was there to see it. But, that's one lesson he learned early on – never get too cocky. So many criminals make that mistake. It ends up being their downfall. They think they are invincible – until they get caught, or worse.

It was a trait he recognized in others – and one he looked for when he needed a crew. He hated loose ends, and the cockier they were, the easier they'd be to dispose.

This one was almost _too_ easy….

He had timing down to an art, dropping the anonymous tip to the police.

He found the right idiots to take the job – not hard in a city this size. If he was anything, it was thorough, studying the potential candidates, looking for that right combination of arrogance and predictability, letting him pull the ultimate switch trick – bag for bag, gun for gun.

He played the role of the unseen financier – how laughably gullible _was_ this son of a two-bit mafioso? Honestly, having blank rounds at _any_ job was a recipe for disaster….

And – his favorite part – he created utter confusion and chaos among his fellow thieves.

Yeah. Way too easy. A game of checkers compared to what he usually played.

The next one would need to be a challenge or else he _would_ fall into that trap of overconfidence.

He would need a sharper, less predictable crew.

Although, he had to admit Hungary had him nervous for a minute. If anyone had sniffed out what was really going on, it was definitely her. Shame to lose her, really. He could use someone like that. But she was too loyal to Lovino….

He looked at his watch again.

Ten seconds….

…No doubt they had found the bomb already….

…Six seconds….

….Were reading the note….

….Lovino recognizing the handwriting as that belonging to their benefactor. The one who set this up, who knew whom he needed to hire and preferring to conduct _all_ communications via handwritten letter. He couldn't risk phone calls – not if he was to be part of their little team. And e-mails can be traced, whereas letters can be burned….

Two seconds….

One.

Zero.

The building burst in shades of orange and yellow, and he recalled absurdly the colors and the shape of the flower of his provincial home as the ball of flame coiled up and away, leaving sharp, fiery tongues behind it.

_Now_ everything was taken care of. Time to move on.

He gradually increased the yacht's speed to twenty knots and cruised towards the horizon. To the ocean and freedom. And more importantly, international waters.

He opened the backpack, running his hands over the stones. Like sand on a beach, the diamonds fell through his fingers. The larger ones he would save. There was a safe deposit box in Switzerland that calling to be filled. The rest he would fence. But both could wait. His finances weren't exactly lacking.

He wondered where he should journey to this time.

Bermuda was nice, but he'd seen that tiny island too often….

Possibly Havana? He could for a good Cuban cigar, having grown weary of the mild Dominican imports available in the States.

Not like they stamped (or checked) passports there anyway. Still, he'd grown sick of pretending to be an American and was dying to test his prowess as a French national….

Now there's an idea.

The two nations had just resumed relations two years ago. It had been awhile since he dabbled in politics. And he _needed_ a challenge….

If it didn't work, he had a slew of other identities and matching documentation to choose from.

His mother always said he had one of those faces….

* * *

_**A/N **Now you know "whodunit" (I hope!) I was going to call this chapter "Mishto!" after the Gogol Bordello song (mishto means "well, good" in the Romani language and everytime I listen to that song, it reminds me of the end of a movie when things are wrapping up/coming together and you discover some huge secret that was staring you right in the face) but decided against it mainly because I'm a huge Sherlock Holmes fan and Moriarty is the ultimate villain/criminal mastermind._

_The exploding building/flower refers to the western red lily – the provincial flower of Saskatchewan._

_And one more thing…._

_CANADA PWNS ALL!_


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